The Wolf and the Rider
by KaiserdeDiez
Summary: Sometimes, fate does what you expect it to. Sometimes, fate just does whatever it wants, as Roran learns when Saphira's egg hatches for him. And, as Eragon will come to learn, sometimes fate simply has other plans for you.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All rights to the Inheritance Cycle belong to Christopher Paolini and Knopf Books**

Eragon moved through the leaf-litter with speed and skill brought about by meticulous practice. It was late fall, almost winter, and the air was cold and dry. Eragon needed to head back to his uncle's farm by tomorrow at the latest to help harvest the crops. That meant that if he didn't make a kill by tonight, then Eragon would have to go home empty handed. Fortunately, Eragon was currently looking at a deer he had been tracking for several days. If he managed to bring it down then there would be enough food to last through winter.

As the deer came to a temporary halt to munch on some grass, Eragon crouched down inside the tree line and took aim with his bow. As he was about to release his arrow a bright flash filled the clearing. When his vision cleared Eragon realized the deer had started fleeing and took a hasty shot at it. The arrow missed the deer completely and imbedded itself into a nearby tree. By the time Eragon got another arrow loaded the deer had already fled into the tree-line, well out of sight.

Now that the action was over Eragon decided to take a closer look at what had lost him the deer. What he saw was a large, circular patch of scorched earth. In the center of the circle was a large, blue stone. As Eragon cautiously made his way toward it he was able to see the white veins running along its surface. Eragon poked at it with his bow a few times, looking for any reaction. After determining the stone to be safe Eragon picked it up to take a closer look.

The first thing that caught Eragon's attention was the weight of the stone. It was far heavier than it looked to be. The next thing he noticed was that the stone was incredibly smooth. He couldn't find a single crack, bump, or scratch on the entire stone. Even the white veins melded perfectly with the rest of the stone.

"What are you?" he asked. Not getting a response from the stone he took off his pack and placed the stone in it. Even though he lost the deer he was tracking he might be able to sell the stone when the traders arrived. It looked like it was fairly valuable. With any luck he would be able to buy enough meat with the money for his family to make it through winter. With the stone safely put away in his pack, Eragon began the trek back to the farm.

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After three days of travel Eragon was almost to Carvahall. Normally he would be going straight back to his uncle's farm, but this was fairly important. Eragon needed to visit Brom and ask about the stone he found. The old story teller seemed to know a great deal about many things. If he knew something about the stone than Eragon would have a better idea of who to sell it to.

As Eragon walks through Carvahall he hears some shouting from nearby. Looking around he sees a well-dressed man accompanied by soldiers standing in front of a house. Eragon realizes that it's Quimby's house and that Quimby is arguing with the well-dressed man. It was then that Eragon realized that the man was Cairn, the regional tax collector. The man had been raising taxes lately, and he was merciless in collecting them.

With a rising wave of anger Eragon started to approach the soldiers. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he was going to do something. Before he made it more than a few feet he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning to look he saw that it was Brom.

"You need to calm down before you do something stupid," Brom said as he led Eragon away.

"Someone needs to do something about Cairn. He's raised the taxes for the last two months! And the taxes weren't cheap to begin with!" Eragon exclaimed.

"And what do you think you're going to do?" Brom asked, "Start a fight with a bunch of trained soldiers and get arrested or, more likely, killed?" At this Eragon remained silent, unable to come up with a response.

"Now, what are you doing in town? Shouldn't you be up at your uncle's farm helping him with the harvest?" Brom asked him.

"Actually I came to ask you about something." Eragon said in a much calmer voice.

This grabbed Brom's attention. Eragon was often full of questions and Brom is the one that usually ended up answering most of them. "What is it that you wanted to ask me about?" Brom said.

"Well, I was up in the Spine on a hunting trip, like I usually am around this time of year. Unfortunately, I didn't catch anything. But while I was up there I found this strange looking stone, which is what I wanted to talk to you about. I thought you might know something about it and what I could get for it." Eragon explained.

"Oh really? Let's see this stone then." Brom said.

At Brom's request Eragon took the stone out of his pack. The moment that Brom saw the stone he went white as a sheet. "You said that you found this in the Spine?" Brom asked with an odd amount of fervor.

"Yes." Eragon replied.

"Then put the stone back into your pack and come with me. Quickly!" Brom commanded, "We'll talk about the stone more once we're in my hut."

As Brom began walking away with a worrying haste Eragon finished putting the stone in his pack and hurriedly followed.

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After Brom and Eragon were seated inside Brom's hut Eragon explained how he came by the stone. At the end of the tale a troubled look appeared on Brom's face.

"What you have there," Brom began quietly and carefully, "Is something vitally important to the future of Alagaesia. That is one of the last dragon eggs in existence." As Brom finished his statement Eragon looked at him with surprise and shock. Brom continued in a firm voice, "You need to take the egg home and hide it. Don't show it to anyone and don't tell anyone about it. I'm going to contact some people to come and collect the egg before the Empire finds out it's here."

Though the tone in Brom's voice brooked no argument something greatly bothered Eragon about the situation. "If that egg is so important why did it appear in the Spine in a flash of fire?"

"What you saw was a teleportation spell," Brom explained, "Which means that something has happened to the egg's courier, and that is a worrying thought indeed. Now get home, and quickly!"

"But what am I going to do for food? Without something to sell how are going to afford enough meat?" Eragon asked him.

At Eragon's question Brom gave him a bag of coins. "There is enough in there for the meat you need. And don't worry about what Garrow will say," Brom said, cutting Eragon off before he could bring up the man's pride, "I'll come up with something you can aid me with once the crops have been harvested. That way you can earn the money. Now go!" With that last command Eragon took the money and left, off to hide the egg in his home.

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"And so you just accepted the money?" Garrow asked with disapproval.

"Brom said he would find some chores for me to do after the harvest so I can work the debt off." Eragon said in his defense.

After a pause Garrow finally replied. "Alright, I suppose that would work," he said. "But you had better put in a good effort."

"I will," Eragon assured him. With their conversation done Eragon left to hide the egg in his room.

With the conversation finished, Eragon ran to his room and closed the door. He began looking for someplace to hide the egg, somewhere that would be out of sight. As he looked around the plain, bare room, Eragon realized the only place he could hide the egg was under his bed. He was reluctant to hide it there, as it was the most obvious hiding place someone could think of, but it would have to do. Plus, he had the advantage of no one at the farm was looking for it. Once Eragon had the egg safely tucked away, he began his chores for the day.

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After Brom's encounter with Eragon he traveled back to his hut with the utmost haste. The Varden had to be informed of what had transpired. This was, without a doubt, the most joyous occasion Alagaesia had known in over a century.

While he knew that Eragon was something of a dreamer, he hoped that the egg would never hatch for him. He didn't think Eragon was cut out for such a life. It might crush his hopes, but Eragon would never have the pressure of carrying all of the Varden's hopes, and he would certainly live longer. He also worried Eraon's temper would be a terrible liability.

When Brom reached his home, he was snapped out of his thoughts. He had something more important to do right now. Once inside, he began digging through a pile of papers and scrolls until he found a non-descript mirror with a plain, wooden frame.

With a muttered phrase the mirror sprang to life with Ajihad's image. "Hello, old friend," Brom said to get the man's attention.

With a small jump of surprise, Ajihad looked at his own mirror, shock in his eyes. "It has been a long time since any of us heard from you Brom," he said. "We thought you might have died."

"As you can see I am far from dead," he assured the leader of the Varden. "However, as much as I would like to chat and catch up with you, I have some very important news that needs to be heard as soon as possible."

That caught Ajihad's attention. "What could be so important that you would contact me after laying low for all of these years? I can't imagine it would be remotely trivial."

Brom looked around the room, making sure he was alone in his hut. With his fears temporarily assuaged he said in low whisper, "I've found the egg that Aria had been carrying. I fear that something must have happened to her for it to end up in Palancar Valley."

"Do you have it with you?" Ajihad asked.

"No," Brom responded, "But it's hidden."

"Where is it, then?"

After a moment of thought, Brom said, "It's with an acquaintance. And before you ask, I would trust him with my life. I'm confident that he won't tell anyone about the egg."

"I hope you're right," Ajihad said. "I'll send some Varden soldiers to collect the egg as soon as possible, and I'll look into what's happened to Aria." With that said, the mirror went blank again.

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It had been almost a week since Eragon had found the egg. Neither Roran nor Garrow showed any suspicion that they knew about the egg. On occasion, he would take the egg out from its hiding place and admire it.

Even now, he could hardly believe it. An actual dragon egg in his hands. It was like something from out of a dream. As he laid there on his bed, admiring the beautiful design on the egg, he became engrossed in fantasies of him becoming a dragon rider of legend. He would fight for justice and overthrow the empire! He would…

A knock at the door brought Eragon out of his day-dreams. As he scrambled to replace the egg in under his bed the door opened and Roran walked in. To Eragon's horror, the egg had been in plain sight when Roran had walked in.

After a pause, Roran asked, "What was that?"

"It was just a stone I found in the Spine," Eragon replied.

Roran didn't believe him for a moment. "If it was just a stone then why did you hide it?"

Eragon thought for a second and then said, "Because it's valuable and I want to make sure it's safe." He almost winced the moment the words left his mouth. Now he was just digging himself a hole.

Roran nearly exploded when he heard that. "If it's so valuable why didn't you try to sell it? We need the money to buy meat for winter!"

Roran walked over to Eragon's bed and reached for the egg. In a fit of panic, Eragon grabbed Roran's arm, trying to stop him. "Why are you hiding this stone!?" Roran asked as he struggled with his cousin.

As the struggle continued, Eragon grunted, "I promised Brom I would keep it hidden."

Roran had had enough. Throwing his cousin off of him, he pulled the egg from under Eragon's bed and said, "This is more important than a promise to an old story teller." Looking out of the window, Roran sighed as he saw the curtain of blackness outside. "It's too dark right now, but first thing in the morning, I'm going to take this into town and sell it."

Then, Roran left the room, taking the egg with him. As Eragon sat there, he felt despair and disappointment fall upon him. He had failed Brom.

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The next morning, Roran awoke to the first rays of dawn. Soon, he heard a sound coming from beside him. As the fog of morning continued to clear from his mind, he realized it was a light snoring sound. Confused, he looked beside him and saw a small, winged lizard. With a start, he scrambled out of bed, falling to the floor in an undignified heap.

His sudden movements stirred the creature from its slumber. It began looking around and when its eyes landed on Roran it let out a small chirp and began to amble toward him. In a panic, Roran looked for anything he could use to fend the creature off. His eyes fell on a pile of broken shell in the corner, where he had put Eragon's stone. Then he realized that it hadn't been a stone at all, but an egg.

He was pulled from his musings by a small chirp, and he realized that the small lizard had gotten near his hand. As Roran moved to push the creature away, its head dove toward his hand. Its snout touched his palm and the world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All rights to the Inheritance Cycle belong to Christopher Paolini and Knopf Books**

It was late the next morning before Roran awoke. It was to a pounding on the door and Eragon's voice. "Roran! Garrow sent me to wake you up! We need to get started with the day!" Roran ment to answer but his thoughts remained sluggish from…whatever it was that had happened. At the sound of chirping he looked off to his right and saw the blue lizard that had touched him earlier climbing up his arm. Before he could do anything else, the door to his room opened.

Roran turned to see Eragon walk into the room. When Eragon entered the room his eyes immediately feel on the lizard sitting on his shoulders, then onto the silver, dragon-like mark on Roran's palm. He stood there for moment with an unreadable expression. After an undeterminable amount of time Eragon finally deviated from this statue-like state. When he did, he seemed to be crestfallen. "So it hatched, then" he said in a subdued voice.

Roran looked at his cousin with a stunned look. It took him a moment to work through the inanity of it all. He finally manage to sputter out, "You knew it was an egg!?"

"Well, yeah but-"

Eragon never got a chance to finish as Roran powered through with his rant. "What possessed you to let the egg of a wild animal into this house?" At this point, Roran finally remembered that the creature was still sitting on his shoulders. With a shrug he dislodged the small thing and stood up. "This thing knocked me unconscious with just a touch. We have no idea how dangerous it really is. It could-"

With an impulse born of Eragon's short temper, he finally inserted himself into the conversation. "It's a dragon, Roran!" he said with a bit more volume than he intended.

Roran scoffed at this. "Don't be daft, cousin. There's-"

"There's what?" Eragon interrupted, "A rational explanation? Look at the mark on your hand. Look at it and tell me that there's a rational explanation for it," he challenged.

Roran began to speak but, as the words were about to leave the tip of his tongue, he decided against it. Ignoring his original, discarded rebuttal, Roran instead asked, "How can you be sure this is a dragon?" He immediately felt foolish for the question, as the creature's species was obvious in retrospect.

"Brom told me," was all Roran's cousin said.

Having had time to take everything in, Roran seemed to calm somewhat. "So," he began, "What are we going to do? We can't have a dragon running around the farm."

"I'll tell Brom. He seems like he'd know what to do or at least where to start. But right now, we need to get back to Garrow before he comes in looking for us," Eragon said, "I'll see if I can't find some gloves or something to cover up your palm while you think of someplace to hide the dragon." Then Eragon left Roran to his thoughts.

Roran had to admit, Eragon was being surprisingly level-headed compared to normal. Roran cared about his cousin, but it was plain to most of Carvahall that Eragon's head was often in the clouds and had a temper that left much to be desired.

It wasn't long until Eragon returned with a pair of gloves, "So, any thoughts on where we'll hide the dragon?"

"I'll go out and get started on my chores before Garrow becomes suspicious while you hide it in the barn. After all, it's your turn to clean the place." was Roran's reply.

Agreeing with Roran's idea, Eragon waited for his cousin to leave before grabbing some rope and sneaking off to the barn. As he walked out to the barn, Eragon caught a short snippet of Roran and Garrow's conversation.

"…I was about to check on you myself," Garrow said.

"Sorry," Roran said, "I must have been more exhausted than I thought…"

Eragon didn't catch what else was said as he walked out of earshot. When he got into the barn he found a spot behind some barrels where he could tie up the dragon and have it be hidden from anyone entering the barn.

As he went about tying the dragon to a barrel, Eragon couldn't help but feel a bit despondent about the way things had turned out. It would have been so great to have become one of the dragon riders. But that wasn't going to happen now. Now he would likely remain a farmer. Life tended to not provide farmers many opportunities for advancement. Once he had secured the dragon to the barrel, Eragon found some sausages for it to eat while everyone else was busy. Then, burying his mild gloom, he set about cleaning the barn.

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The next morning saw Roran walking toward Carvahall with the bag of money that Brom had leant Eragon. The previous night had grown cold leaving a lingering chill even into late morning, causing Roran's breathe to come out in a light fog.

As Roran walked, he thought about the plan he had come up with the night previous. Brom needed to be told about the dragon's hatching. The problem, however, was how to do so without raising suspicion. The answer laid in the money that Brom had given to Eragon. Using it to buy meet gave the perfect excuse for Roran to head to Carvahall while Eragon and Garrow tended to the farm. It would also give him the chance to head to Brom's hut without alerting anyone.

When Roran arrived at Brom's hut he thought about the situation. Until yesterday, if someone had told him he was going to be a dragon rider he would have called them a fool. And now, Roran was preparing himself to tell an old man just that. The irony wasn't lost on him.

A quick knock on the door and Brom was at his door in moments. "Ah, Roran. What brings you here?"

"I need to talk to you about something," Roran said.

A look of almost exasperation came over Brom's face, "What has Eragon done now?"

"This isn't about Eragon this time," Roran started, "Well, it kind of is…" Roran had difficulty believing what he was about to say next. After a moment he managed to say, "It's about the dragon egg you told Eragon to hide."

That last sentence made Brom go rigid and the color drain from his face. Leaning in close he whispered, "How do you know about that?"

Roran decided to speak in a normal voice, "I caught him admiring it a couple of days ago."

After looking around Brom said, "We'll talk inside. Please, come in."

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The inside of Brom's hut was cozier than Roran would have imagined. Many surfaces were covered in scrolls and loose papers, but it had a homey feel to it. Taking a seat in one of the two chairs, Roran waited for Brom to begin the conversation.

"So, what has that fool cousin of yours told you about the situation?" Brom finally asked.

"He told me about what the egg was and that now I would be a dragon rider," Roran said.

"So what's happened with the egg that you needed to come to me?" Brom asked.

"The egg hatched." Roran replied.

Brom was visibly surprised by this. "Who did it hatch for?"

Roran raised his his right hand and showed Brom the marking on his palm. "It hatched for me."

Brom seemed to be considering what he had just heard. After letting the knowledge sink in he said, "That's about all that I told Eragon. I honestly didn't expect it to hatch for any of you, so I didn't tell him the entire situation. Unfortunately, I can't tell you everything just yet. First, I need you to repeat after me." At this point, Brom slowly spoke a strange language. He waited for Roran to get the pronunciation of each word right before moving on. After a time, Brom declared the process to be over.

Roran's curiosity immediately got the better of him. "So what did you just have me say?" he asked.

Brom replied, "I just had you swear to never speak of any of what I'm about to say in this hut…"

The rest of Brom's explanation was cut off by Roran's interruption, "You just had me speak a few words in some strange language. How can you be sure that I'll honor it?"

"Simple," said Brom, "You gave your word in the ancient language. It is quite literally impossible to break such a promise." Roran's first thought was to scoff at such an idea, but the way that Brom said it with complete confidence and conviction gave him pause.

"So now, I can tell you more about the situation. That egg has had that egg for decades, waiting for it to hatch for someone. Not long ago, something happened to its courier, which ended up in the egg being teleported to the Spine, where your cousin found it."

Roran asked, "What happens now that the egg hatched for me?"

Brom looked to be about to say something but hesitated. Roran didn't like that pause. It didn't instill confidence in him. After another attempt Brom said, "You're not going to like what I'm about to say, but…you will need to leave Palancar Valley soon."

Roran found himself unable to speak. Leave Palancar Valley? "Why?" he asked.

"You need to leave," Brom began, "So that you can train to aid the Varden."

"WHAT!? You want me to leave my friends, my family…my LIFE so I can help some group I've barely heard about? What makes you think that I would agree?" Roran demanded.

If Brom was at all affected by Roran's outburst he didn't show it. He merely continued with his explanation. "You are the Varden's only hope for defeating Galbatorix. They need you."

"And what if I don't want to help the Varden? What if I actually want to help Galbatorix?" Roran asked in defiance.

"Come now, Roran. I've known you long enough to know that you don't support Galbatorix," Brom replied, "But, if you really need another reason, than think about your friends and family. When Galbatorix finds out that the egg has hatched for you, and believe me, he _will_ find out eventually, how safe do you think anyone in Palancar Valley will really be?"

Brom waited for Roran to come up with some kind of answer. When Roran was not forth coming with one he continued, "So, are you really going to stay here with your dragon or are you going to come with me to the Varden?"

"Alright, I'll go," was Roran's reluctant answer.

"Good," said Brom, "Because I informed the Varden the moment Eragon told me about the egg. Until then, I suggest you hide the dragon."

"It's hidden in the barn right now," said Roran.

"That will do for now. That just leaves the matter of how to get you away from Palancar Valley without suspicion."

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Two weeks later saw much of Carvahall gathered for Brom and Roran's funeral. Eragon found the light rain to be an appropriate addition to the moment. He looked around at the crowd gathered in memorial of two great people. About the only people that didn't come were a few farmers who were too far away to know either person or to make it in time and Sloan, though Eragon wasn't unhappy about him not being there.

He saw Garrow openly crying, marking the second time in his life that Eragon saw him shed a tear, the first time being when Aunt Marian died. Katrina was also openly weeping, seemingly inconsolable. Eragon wanted to try to comfort her, but he knew that it wouldn't work, nor would it be a good idea. Instead, he looked at the empty graves, for there were no bodies to bury, and thought about how this had come to pass.

Roran had been heading to Brom's hut to work out how Eragon would be paying off his debt. What happened after that was never discovered. The only facts known about the incident were that the inside of Brom's hut was left in shambles, there was a large amount of blood on the floor, and there were the tracks of many people outside the hut, with evidence of two people being dragged outside.

A concerted effort was made to follow the tracks, but they ended after a time. Whoever it was knew very well how to cover their tracks, for even Eragon couldn't follow them. Even though no one could figure out who had done it the amount of blood in the hut meant they were more than likely dead.

During the entire service, the only other thought running through Eragon's head was that now it was just him and Uncle Garrow. It was a sobering thought. It helped to bring the situation into focus. After the funeral was over, Eragon excused himself, saying that he needed to be alone. It was true in more ways than one.

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Eragon solemnly made his way toward the edge of the forest, behind the family's farm. He was heading toward a small clearing that he and Roran had claimed as theirs during their youth. His mood was depressed due to the knowledge that he would be alone for both the trip there and the trip back. Eragon wished he could bring Garrow and Katrina here, but he knew that that would be a bad idea. He was lucky to even be told about it.

As he neared the clearing, Eragon could hear two distinct voices, voices that he knew very well. The moment he entered the clearing he saw the two subjects of the funeral and the dragon that made this all necessary. "Well, everyone thinks you two are dead," Eragon said.

"That was the plan," Brom said.

"How are Katrina and my father handling it?" Roran asked with a hint of urgency.

"Well," Eragon said, "They're taking it about as well as you could reasonably hope for. Katrina is distraught and inconsolable and even Uncle Garrow is crying."

"Unfortunately, we can't risk anyone else knowing about this. Otherwise, I would have no problems with them coming here to say 'goodbye.'" Brom said with a face as unchanging as stone. Eragon suspected it was just because he didn't want anyone to know he was sad to leave the valley.

"Then why did you tell me?" Eragon asked.

"Because we needed someone to help us set up our fake deaths and, since you already knew so much about the situation, you were the natural choice," was Brom's reply.

Eragon still wasn't satisfied, though the answer had nothing to do with it. He supposed that he just felt like being a bit belligerent. "So what are we going to do about the two hogs you used for the blood stains and to create the tracks? We needed those and I can't just bring back the meat you cured from them without making Garrow suspicious."

As it turned out, Brom had an answer to that as well. Not only was he an expert at covering his tracks, much to Eragon's surprise, he was a great planner as well, also to Eragon's surprise. "I left a bag of coins inside your house along with a note, thanking Garrow for the pigs. Unfortunately, we need to be leaving soon, so if you two have anything to say to each other you had best do it." With that said, Brom walked to the edge of the clearing to give Eragon and Roran a measure of privacy.

"I guess this is goodbye, then," Roran said.

"Yeah," Eragon said solemnly, "I guess it is."

"Eragon…I know that, by blood, you're just my cousin. But as far as I'm concerned you're every bit a brother to me," Roran said. "Take care of yourself. You're all Garrow has, now."

Eragon simply smiled an almost content smile. "I will, brother." With nothing left to be said, Roran joined Brom at the edge of the clearing before he became too tempted to stay. The entire time he felt sad about how he was the one stuck at the farm, how he would never get to go on an adventure. But most of all, he was sad about the fact that his brother was leaving.

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After a few hours of walking, Roran's curiosity got the better of him. "What's the plan from here?" he asked.

"First," said Brom, "We head to Yazuac. Once there, we'll restock on some supplies, maybe trade some of the salted pork we got from your cousin. We'll also acquire a pair of horses while we're there. Then we continue on to Bullridge to meet with a Varden caravan."

Roran still wasn't satisfied. "And after that?"

"After that we continue our journey."

At that Roran merely grumbled. He had given up his simple and uncomplicated life as a farmer to go on a journey with this old man and a glorified lizard and he didn't even know where exactly they were going. This was just perfect.

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The past week hadn't been as lonely as Eragon thought it would, though that could have been because of how busy he and Garrow had been. Without Roran there, they had to pick up the slack of harvesting the crops. What was even more surprising was how much progress they'd made. Eragon supposed that it was because they'd been using the work to avoid their sorrow. Now they had made enough headway that Eragon could make another foray into the Spine to hunt for something.

As Eragon trudged through the forests of the infamous Spine he continuously got the feeling that he was being watched. His time hunting had taught him not to ignore these feelings, but whenever he looked around he found no evidence of being followed. Eragon found himself being unnerved by this, as he had never run into something that could so completely hide its presence from him. Even Brom, with his expertise in covering his tracks, had left a few indications of his presence. It didn't help that Eragon kept feeling some kind of tingling in the back of his mind.

Despite the wariness, he trudged on. He had never let superstition regarding the Spine get the better of him and he wasn't about to let that change. '_Besides_,' he thought to himself, '_What's the worst that could happen?_'

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**So, that's chapter two. I hope that you all have as much fun reading it as I had writing it. I look forward to reading any reviews left.**


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Well, sorry about getting this one out so late. I was distracted by a variety of activities, though that is no excuse. With that said, this is the chapter where things really start departing from the books. Enjoy! XD

**Disclaimer: All rights to the Inheritance Cycle belong to Christopher Paolini and Knopf Books**

The forest was silent. It was quiet. It was lifeless. It had been three days and Eragon hadn't found any hint of animals moving in the area. He found the lack of recent tracks to be disconcerting. While he _was_ hunting a good deal later in the year than he ever had before, this was ridiculous. Hibernating bears and migrating birds couldn't account for such a lack of activity. There should still be wolves, deer, foxes, and a whole score of forest creatures running about. There were tracks in the snow as clear as day. Considering that there had been snow only three days ago and that there was no snow covering the tracks, that meant that the wildlife had left the area recently. Something drove them out.

He had a feeling of what it was, though. Even as he walked he could feel something that just wasn't _right_ about the forest at the moment. He couldn't put a finger on it, however. Still, he had failed to catch anything the last time he went hunting. There was no way he was going home without a catch unless he absolutely had to. And, if something had driven the animals out from such a large area and so quickly, it was probably worth investigating. With this in mind, Eragon decided to move deeper into the woods. Deeper than he had ever gone before.

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"Damn weather!" Eragon grumbled.

It was the fourth day of Eragon's excursion in the Spine and the weather had taken a startling turn for the worst. What had been a clear and cloudless day had turned into a veritable blizzard inside of ten minutes. It was unnatural! Eragon knew there was no way the weather could turn so quickly by natural means, but right now he needed to find shelter, and quickly. Then, suddenly, he knew exactly where he could find said shelter. That struck him as odd, but he could think about this sudden clarity after he was out of this blasted storm!

A short walk later saw Eragon coming upon a cave. Normally, he wouldn't simply walk into a random cave, as there's no telling what animal might be taking shelter there. However, these were fairly extreme circumstances. Still, it would be a good idea to do a little exploring to see what might be in there before making camp. If he had to do something stupid, he might as well be smart about it. Having made up his mind, he continued into the recesses of the cave.

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Eragon hadn't been exploring long before he felt it. At first it was just like a small tingle in his mind, a feather tickling his brain. As Eragon walked deeper into the cave, the feeling grew more intense, more powerful. Then he heard it. A voice. But, it wasn't like a normal voice. No. As strange as it seemed to him, this voice seemed to have no sound. "_Come to me_," it said.

This had Eragon curious more than concerned, so he tried to figure out where this strange non-voice was coming from. Besides, if he wanted he could just ignore it. As Eragon advanced, it seemed like he knew just which turns to take to get closer to the voice. It was like he had lived in this cave his whole life! But as he went deeper, he soon noticed that the soundless voice was getting louder. And stronger. But by the time he noticed, it was too late.

"_Come. Come. Come to me_," it said. Then Eragon was vaguely aware of the scraping of his boots on the rough, stone floor. He could almost discern his surroundings by the light of his torch. The world around him blurred into an almost dream, almost a parody of reality. He was vaguely aware of moving, but where to he had no idea. He was barely able to have an idea in the first place.

When Eragon finally regained awareness, he found himself standing with his arm in the mouth of a stone wolf's head. Then the mouth clamped shut on his arm and Eragon felt searing pain like nothing he'd ever felt shoot up his arm. He felt the tendrils of agony crawl through his shoulder and to his neck. Once they reached his mind, when they tendrils began to tickle his consciousness he entered the merciful blackness that was unconsciousness.

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Even in unconsciousness, Eragon's mind wasn't completely inactive. He dreamed of his life on the farm. His time growing up with Roran. When his aunt died. When Roran became enamored with Katrina. The first time he went hunting. When he first learned to shoot a bow. None of it came in any particular order.

Then his dreams turned from reality to fantasy. He dreamt of the moon and sitting under its light. He dreamt of the night wind blowing, carrying the smell of coming rain. In the distance he could here howling. That was ok, though. Wolves didn't really worry him. He didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually the world gradually faded back to black.

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When Eragon awoke the first thing that he noticed was the cold, hard, rough stone floor pressed against his cheek. He could feel the line of dried drool plastered onto his face. It told him that he had been laying there for some time. Sluggishly, for his limbs felt like unresponsive lead, Eragon pushed himself into a sitting position and wipe the dry spit off of his face.

"_So, you're finally awake,_" the voice from earlier said.

With a start, Eragon tried to climb to his feet, but his sluggish limbs caused him to trip backward, bouncing the back of his head off of the rocky floor. Curling into a defensive ball, Eragon cradled his aching skull.

"_You probably shouldn't try standing up so quickly for awhile. Your body is still recovering_," the unknown voice said.

"What?" asked Eragon in complete confusion.

"_Also, sorry about the dreams_," the voice said._ "It's a side effect of the process_."

Eragon was confused at the voice's words. "What are you talking about? Better yet, who are you? _Where_ are you?" he asked as he rubbed his throbbing skull.

"_Quite a few questions_," the voice said with a chuckle. "_But entirely reasonable ones. Let's start with the easiest to answer. My name is Fenris. As for where I am, that is quite a bit trickier to explain. I am inside the wolf statue that bit you_."

If anything, this just strengthened Eragon's confusion and instilled more than a little disbelief. "If you're trapped in the statue, then how are you talking to me?"

"_To be more specific,_" began Fenris,"_I'm a consciousness trapped in a gem in the back of the statues' mouth_." After Fenris mentioned the gem, Eragon noticed it at the back of the statues' mouth, pulsing in time with Fenris' words. "_As for how I'm talking to you, I'm not. I'm communicating with you mentally. The sound of my voice is, literally, all in your head_."

Eragon's thoughts were summed up by a single phrase. "What?"

"_I meant exactly what I said_," replied Fenris. "_Considering that I'm a mind in a gem, are you really that surprised?_" he continued with a hint of mirth.

Eragon considered what he had just learned for a moment and said, "I guess not. But what about my last question?"

"_The last question is the one that's the most delicate and the one that's the hardest to answer_," said Fenris. "_The easiest way to start would be to say that I changed you. A lot._"

That perked Eragon's interest. "Changed? How? Why? And to what extent?"

Fenris was silent for awhile. Without a face to look at it was hard to tell, but Eragon thought that Fenris was considering his answer. He didn't like what that foretold. Finally, when Eragon's limited patience was about to wear out Fenris spoke, "_I changed you through magic. Very, very old magic of a kind forgotten long ago. Why, is because I need your help. And for the extent, I changed your body on a fundamental level._"

"Wha-," Eragon started to say.

"_I was getting to that_," Fenris interrupted. "_As to what, exactly, I did, well…look at your arm_."

Doing as he was told, Eragon saw a large black mark snaking around his arm. When it neared his hand, the mark quickly turned into a wolf's head with its jaws wide open, waiting to strike. In the confusion of everything that had been going on, he had failed to notice what was, in reality, a very large and noticeable mark.

"_That_," began Fenris, "_Is called the mark of Fenris. It has such a pretentious name, because I'm the one that created the process that creates that mark. While you may not believe me, it means that the bearer has been turned into a werewolf_."

The moment he heard that all seriousness Eragon felt about the situation evaporated and he couldn't help but start laughing. "Now I know this is a load of bullshit," he said between laughs. Without another word, he walked out of the cave, still laughing. He wasn't worried about getting lost. He could remember the path he'd taken perfectly.

"_Very well, Eragon. I'll still be here when you choose to believe_," Fenris told the retreating form. "_Oh, and there's a sleeping deer just to the east of here, if you're still interested in catching something_."

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Eragon had planned on returning to the mouth of the cave and waiting out the storm as he had originally intended before his recent diversion. However, when he reached the surface he saw that the storm had ended completely. Since there was no longer anything keeping him in the cave he decided to at least look into Fenris' bit of advice. After all, it wouldn't hurt to look.

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As Eragon carried the deer back to the farm, he couldn't help but think back to Fenris' last words. As he had said, there was a deer not far east of the cave and it had, indeed, been sleeping. This unnerved Eragon a bit, but that didn't mean anything. While he didn't think it mere coincidence (he was willing to accept that Fenris had been talking to him in his mind and could probably find a deer nearby by similar methods) that didn't mean anything. It definitely didn't mean he had been turned into a werewolf. Without another thought on the matter, he continued his trek to the farm with his catch. Why would he give it another thought? After all, werewolves didn't exist…right?

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Fenris chuckled to himself deep in the earthen recesses of his cave. He could feel Eragon's uncertainty. He knew Eragon believed him on a subconscious level. He also knew the boy would likely be stubborn about it, for it was in his nature.

But Fenris would not hold such stubborn disbelief against him. It was perfectly understandable for anyone to not want to believe that their life had been changed against their will and to such an extent. No, the real test of character would come later. The real test was whether his stubbornness would give way under real evidence. That, however, would come soon enough.  
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They had stopped for lunch, something Roran was grateful for as Saphira was being insistent on being fed, chirping incessantly. And for added measure, their apparent mental bond (which had been growing stronger every day) meant that he could feel it when she grew hungry. Between that and the chirping, it was very hard to ignore Saphira for long.

As Saphira was eating the jerky Roran had given her, he thought about home. It had been three weeks since he had left the farm. They were almost to Yazuac, now, where they would stop for supplies. Judging by the lightly falling snow (which Saphira wanted nothing to do with), winter was well on its way. He could only hope that Eragon and Garrow would be able to manage without him.

He wished he hadn't had to leave the farm. But if he hadn't the Empire would eventually find out about Saphira, and then all of Carvahall would be in danger. Knowing that, he would rather deal with the pain of leaving Carvahall.

He was snapped out of his musing when a long stick was thrown in his lap. "Get up," Brom said. "It's time to practice your swordsmanship."

That was something that Roran could do without. Almost as soon as they had left Carvahall, Brom had insisted that he learn how to properly wield a sword. Of course, his idea of teaching was beating you across the head until you learned to duck or block, whichever came first. Still, it _was_ important that he learn, so he grasped his "sword" and prepared to learn how to fight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: All rights to the Inheritance Cycle belong to Christopher Paolini and Knopf Books**

**AN**: So, here's the next chapter of The Wolf and the Rider. After a few chapters of talking, you may be pleased to hear that this chapter is a bit more action. Enjoy!

By the time Eragon had returned to the farm, he had all but forgotten about his encounter with Fenris. Even if he hadn't, he had no desire to think about…whatever it was right now. Right now, he was just glad to be home. As he came upon the farmhouse, Garrow came out to greet him.

"You finally came back. I was starting to worry about you," he said.

"No need to worry about me, Uncle," Eragon replied with a smile. "You know I can take care of myself out in the Spine."

"I know," Eragon's uncle said. "That still doesn't keep me from worrying, especially since Roran's already left."

At the mention of Roran the mood turned somber. His absence was still being felt around the farmhouse. For a moment, silence reigned. Then, trying to change both atmosphere and subject, Garrow spoke. "I see you caught something this time around."

Latching onto the new topic, Eragon said, "Yeah. It's a pretty big catch, too. Now that there're only two of us, we'll probably have plenty left over by the time winter ends."

"Won't that be something," Garrow said, thinking out loud. "With a few more years and more good catches, we might even be able to afford to expand the farm!" he said with a smile. Eragon found himself smiling right alongside his uncle. With the mood lifted, the pair walked to the barn with Eragon bringing along the deer carcass. Good mood or not, the meat needed to be butchered and cured.

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After getting the meat set up to smoke, Eragon and Garrow continued with their chores for the day, as normal, something that Eragon was happy about. In fact, the next two weeks passed without major incident (or, at least there were no incidents outside the realm of the mundane). Eragon got up, helped with chores, and went to sleep. The encounter with Fenris had become little more than a bad memory.

Of course, Eragon was always careful about hiding the mark on his arm. He didn't want Garrow asking about it, for fear of either sounding like a nut if he told the truth or seeming suspicious by (poorly) lying. Neither option seemed very pleasant.

However, two weeks after that strange and unsettling encounter, Eragon felt something different about himself. There was definitely something unusual about today, there was no denying that, but he couldn't tell what it was. The difference became apparent shortly after Eragon began his chores for the day. He was energetic as hell.

Eragon blew through the day's chores without even slowing down. He had finished them in record time and still needed to move. So he began doing Garrow's chores, much to the old farmer's protest. But Eragon was not taking 'no' for an answer. He blurred around the farm doing whatever he could to keep busy and burn this energy, but it wasn't working, so he moved onto cleaning up the house.

By now, Garrow was adamant about his nephew taking a break, but Eragon simply _couldn't_. He was far too energetic and far too restless to simply stop and rest. All day, he worked with Garrow unable to do anything but sit by and watch Eragon zipping around the farm.

Finally, by the end of the day, Eragon had burned off enough energy to sit still, though barely. Thus, the end of the day saw him whittling in front of the fireplace. It was a favorite hobby of his, but he could barely focus on it at the moment. But, there wasn't like there was much else to do right now. He had done all of the chores that needed to be done and Garrow had since gone to sleep.

That's when Eragon felt the strangest sensation he'd felt in his life. He suddenly felt like he was far too large for his skin. It felt like his skin was stretching. He immediately stopped whittling and looked at himself. He seemed the same as he always did. There wasn't anything out of place.

That changed the moment he saw his right arm start growing. In shock, he dropped his knife and the piece of wood he had been shaping, planning to make a draconic figurine. At first, it just swelled rapidly, quickly ripping his sleeves and baring Fenris' mark. Then, stunned at the sheer abnormality of what was occurring, he watched as it grew longer, eventually doubling in both length and girth. When he caught something in the corner of his eye, Eragon looked to his left and saw with a sense of foreboding fascination that his left arm had copied the right. Then he noticed the rest of his body had also been growing this entire time.

When he saw that his entire body was also sprouting thick, gray fur he started screaming. Not in pain for, at most, he only felt a slight tingling sensation. No, he screamed out of the sheer horror of seeing his body deforming, becoming something monstrous. He felt a slight pressure in his face, as though something was pressing against it, trying to lengthen it. He felt the same pressure at the base of his spine as a tail grew and around his feet as they lengthened and came to resemble those of a wolf. He could feel all of his nails lengthening, hardening, becoming weapons that could tear a tree to kindling and rend rocks with ease. He also vaguely realized that he had grown much, much taller, standing stooped yet still with his back touching the ceiling.

What started as the terrified screaming of one that was no longer a boy yet not quite a man turned into a monstrous growling and roaring that, in the back of his mind, Eragon thought resembled that of a demonic wolf. When the change finished, Eragon managed to slowly calm himself now that he did not have to deal with a constant barrage of changes.

Breathing heavily, he looked himself over as best he could. His fur (that was an idea that would take a very long time for him to come to terms with) very closely resembled that of a wolf's in both coloration and pattern. He brought his clawed hands up to his face and noticed that he was stuck with a very large, very wolf-like muzzle. Moving his hands father up his skull, he felt large, triangular ears. He thought they were each about the size of a grown man's hand, though it was hard to tell without something for comparison. He also noticed that they were very sensitive to touch finding that, if he didn't apply to much pressure, the feeling was quite relaxing. Then his sensitive ears picked up a startled gasp.

Turning, Eragon saw something that made his heart stop and his ears fold back against his skull. There, standing in the doorway to his room, was Uncle Garrow with a look of utter and complete shock on his face. Eragon immediately went from fear and confusion (and, though he wouldn't admit it, amazement) about his recent transformation to fear and alarm about what Garrow would think. Without another thought, Eragon tried to bolt out of the front door. Finding himself too large to easily fit through the doorway, Eragon simply took the frame with him like it was nothing. Without another thought, Eragon ran off toward the Spine.

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As Eragon ran, the wind was blowing through his fur. In the back of his mind, Eragon realized that the speed was amazing! He was traveling faster than any horse and he had barely tired, even after an hour of non-stop running! But most of his mind was occupied with the fact that Garrow had seen him change, and that was what worried him most.

As Eragon dodged and twisted around the trees and, in one case, accidently plowed through one (which hurt a lot), he thought about what had just happened. Eragon had no idea what Garrow would think about seeing a nine-foot tall wolf creature standing amidst a pile of his nephews clothes. What if he went to the villagers and told them a monster had invaded his house? What if he just tried to kill Eragon himself? Eragon had no intention of staying to find out. No matter what, Eragon didn't think he could blame Garrow for taking this badly. Eragon was the one who transformed and even he was taking it badly!

Eragon felt the panic fading from his system as he ran. Soon, he calmed down enough to realize there was plenty of distance between him and the farm, and so he decided to stop. Now he needed to think about what to do next. The immediately obvious idea was to simply run away.

That, however, immediately proved to be a bad idea. First of all, he was completely naked at the moment with his clothes having been shredded when he changed. Second, he had no supplies, which meant that traveling the countryside would be a bad idea. In order to run away he'd have to first go back to the farm. This lead Eragon to a second possibility: what if he simply went back and explained the situation? After all, despite Eragon's fears to the contrary, he had always known Garrow to be open-minded and reasonable. Yes, that was a good idea.

Having come to a decision about what to do, Eragon found it raised another, much more difficult question. How do you explain to someone that their teenaged nephew gained the ability to turn into a massive, nine-foot, bipedal wolf monster?

Eragon summed up his situation with a simple statement, "Well, damn." Or, at least, he tried to. The only thing that came out was a series of rumbles and growls. And, just like that, Eragon ran face first into yet another obstacle. '_Well_,' Eragon thought to himself, '_I'll just have to wait this out_.' And so, Eragon began the trek back to the farm. If he could stay somewhat nearby so that once he changed back (something he could only hope would be the case) he wouldn't have to remain in the cold for long with his current lack of attire.

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As Roran and Brom headed toward Gilead, where they planned to once again restock their supplies, Roran continued to wonder about Brom. It was a mystery to him how an old story teller knew so much. Not only had Brom proven to be a master swordsman, he seemed to know everything there was to know about dragons and dragonriders. It certainly made Roran wonder.

"_Brom certainly is a strange one, isn't he?_" At the feel of the familiar thoughts in his mind, Roran looked up to see Saphira soaring above them. "_That he is_," Roran replied. In two weeks, Saphira had undergone a massive growth spurt. Where she had only come up to Roran's knee before, she now reached mid-thigh. She had also learned to talk, which Roran found to be a blessing as it gave him someone to talk to other than a curmudgeonly, mystery of an old story teller.

As she had grown too large to easily carry on horseback, they had started having her fly above them. Since she was still knew to long-distance flights, Roran felt compelled to ask, "_Do you need a rest?_"

"_Not yet_," Saphira said. "_I'm more capable than I think you give me credit for_."

"_Just let me know when you need a break_," Roran said in reply.

"_Don't worry, Roran, I'll let you know_," Saphira said with a hint of mirth. "_I think a better question would be 'are you alright?'"_

"_What do you mean, 'Am I alright?'_" Roran asked in mild confusion.

"_I'm talking about how you're still distracted_," she said.

Now Roran knew what she was getting at. "_It's just that I'm still worried about everyone I left in Carvahall_."

"_I thought as much_," Saphira said. "_Doesn't it help to know that leaving was probably the best thing you could have done for them?_"

"_It does, but I still worry_," Saphira's rider replied.

"_I wouldn't worry too much_," the dragon said, "_From what you've told me, Eragon and Garrow are quite capable. And Katrina seems to be quite strong in spirit. I'm sure they'll be fine_."

Saphira's words were intended to cheer Roran up, and they succeeded at doing just that. "_You're right. They'll all do fine without me._"

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As Eragon walked sedately through the forest, listening to the crunch of snow and debris under foot, he continued to think about his situation. He had figured out what he was going to tell his uncle, though he knew that was still going to be awkward at best. Now he was occupying his time with what ifs. He was currently thinking about what he could do with his newfound abilities. He could fight off the soldiers and keep them from taxing Carvahall dry! That would be amazing.

Eragon found himself snapped out of his dreaming when he heard something that frightened him. He heard someone screaming, though it was far away and indistinct. He swiveled his ears (something he didn't even know he could do) to hear the far-off sounds better. This time he could tell that it was his uncle's scream. He could hear Garrow screaming in pain. With fear pumping through his veins, Eragon took off at break-neck speed once more, racing to help his uncle.

This time, Eragon barely bothered with going around the trees. He simply went through them and ignored the pain. The only time he bothered to deviate from his rapid bee-line toward the farm was when he came across a tree he too big to break through, which, with his incredible strength and ability to just shrug off damage, was a rare occurrence.

Despite running as fast as any horse, Eragon's panic drove him to go yet faster. His body seemed to respond of its own accord, shifting seamlessly into a four-legged sprint. Pushing this new gait to its limits, Eragon rushed to his uncle's aid even faster. His mad rampage through the forest was fueled by the ever-louder screams of Garrow. When he neared the farm, Eragon slowed to avoid crashing into the farmhouse. If Eragon did so without knowing where Garrow was, he would risk harming his uncle inadvertently.

When Eragon reached the back wall of the house he began peering through the windows. With his new, superior night vision, Eragon soon found his uncle lying on the ground between two cloaked figures near the front of the house. He could also see that one of the figures had a flask in one of its hands while the other figure asked his uncle about the dragon egg. That was all that Eragon needed to know. With minor effort, Eragon rammed through the wall, leaving a massive hole. All it took was a mighty leap and Eragon found himself between the shocked figures and standing protectively over his uncle.

The figure holding the flask recovered from its shock in time to avoid a backhanded strike from Eragon's massive hand with inhuman speed, losing only a bit of its cloak when it was grazed by Eragon's claw. In turn, the figure splashed the flask's contents at Eragon and drew its sword.

The liquid caught Eragon on the left side of his face and neck. The moment it touched his skin he felt the most intense burning he had ever felt. In his agony, Eragon reared back and let out an immense, monstrous roar as he grasped his searing face. His actions were rewarded with yet more pain as the burning spread to his palms. Eragon roared again as he felt fresh pain in his back. Looking down, he saw the other figure's sword sticking out of him, having been run through with it.

The pain was quickly numbed by and replaced with rage. With a quick, violent twist Eragon turned and snapped the blade off at the hilt and tried to swat his assailant away with his massive hand. Despite the figure's best attempts at dodging and its apparently unnatural agility, its left shoulder was still caught by the devastating blow. The result was a satisfying crunch, and the robed creature being flung into the nearby wall. Its companion, however, wasn't idle.

While Eragon was distracted with the other figure, the one that had splashed him with the liquid took a stab at Eragon and was sure to aim low. When the blow struck home, Eragon doubled over in pain. The robed creature then went for Eragon's head. Despite the pain, Eragon caught sight of the blade in time to move his head out of the way, causing the blade to sink into his right shoulder instead. Eragon grabbed the blade and took a swipe at the creature with his claws, but its speed saved it from a blow that would have surely disemboweled it. As his opponent backed away, weaponless, Eragon pulled the sword from his shoulder. Despite returning to a doubled-over position, the pain Eragon had been feeling was fading at an amazing rate. With the pain receding quickly, Eragon was able to stay focused on his opponent.

Seeing that its opponent still had quite a bit of fight left in him and its ally was on the ground, the creature wasn't waiting for this beast to recover. Right after it landed from its nimble dodge, it dashed past the behemoth it had been fighting and collected its motionless ally. With a heavy, it picked lifted the downed creature, and jumped out of a nearby window.

At first, Eragon wanted to follow, but through his haze of rage he realized that it was more important to see to Garrow first. After pulling the sword blade out of his body, Eragon scooped Garrow's still form into his arms. Now that he had time to look closely, Eragon noticed his uncle had several large wounds. What was odd was that it looked like something had simply dissolved his skin, leaving bare patches of bleeding muscle.

Then Garrow opened his eyes and looked at the person that had picked him up. At first, Eragon was worried that Garrow would react poorly to his current appearance. Thus, he was surprised when, having recognized the look in the wolf-creature's eyes, Garrow weakly asked, "Is that you, Eragon?" Since he couldn't speak, Eragon just gave the man a slow nod. Seeing the nod, Eragon's uncle smiled and closed his eyes and seemingly fell into unconsciousness.

Staggering outside, Eragon noticed that the cloaked figure was already running off into the distance with its revived partner, though the latter creature had a noticeable limp. Since Eragon had more important problems to deal with, he turned away and began a rapid sprint into Carvahall. He had no idea how the citizens might react, but that didn't matter now.

It didn't matter and neither did the fact that Garrow's attackers were getting away, or that Eragon couldn't see out of his left eye, or that he would assuredly never have children. No, getting Uncle Garrow help was the only thing that mattered right now. With his purpose burning in his mind, Eragon focused solely on his task.

It seemed to take no time at all for Carvahall to come into sight. Despite the fight having happened near the end of the night, the sun was just starting to peek from beneath the horizon. He could hear Garrow's breathing. It was shallower than Eragon cared for, but it was steady, which was comforting.

Just as the town was starting to grow near, Eragon felt something strange. It was very much the opposite of what he had felt when changing. Whereas before he had felt too large for his skin, now Eragon felt too small for it.

As he began to change back to normal and his arms diminished in both size and strength, Eragon accidentally dropped his uncle onto the snow covered ground. Garrow's yelp of pain drove Eragon to immediately pick him back up. Despite having returned to normal, Eragon found Garrow to be as light as a feather.

Continuing his sprinting, Eragon noticed that, while much slower than the speed he had managed in his transformed state, he was still running much faster than he had ever managed before. As Eragon ran, he kicked up large chunks of snow in his wake. He ignored the biting cold as it numbed his feet and kept moving forward. Soon enough, he was within the little village of Carvahall. Despite his newfound strength and endurance, Eragon felt a great weariness coming upon him. However, he was able to ignore it for the moment due to the urgency of the situation.

When he entered the town, Eragon stopped for a moment to decide who to take Garrow to for help. He soon decided to go to Horst's house. Elain knew something of medicine and Horst had always been kind to their family. With another burst of speed, Eragon ran to Horst's home. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain any of this, but that didn't matter right now. Besides, Horst was a good and fair man. He would eventually want some answers, but he would at least wait until Eragon and Garrow had been looked after and were well enough to give those answers

When Eragon reached Horst's house, he moved Garrow to being held with one arm so he could pounding on the door, hoping that Horst would answer the door soon. The streets had been deserted so far, but people would be starting their days soon and Eragon didn't want to explain this situation more often than was necessary.

To Eragon's relief, Horst answered his door fairly quickly. It was obvious that he had just awoken, bleary-eyed as he was. The moment he saw the state Garrow and his nephew were in, however, he came to full awareness.

"Come inside, quickly," he said. As soon as Eragon stepped through the door Horst said, "Hand Garrow over, I'll get him to Elain."

When Garrow was being supported by Horst Eragon thanked Horst, his voice dripping with exhaustion and relief. With his goal complete, Eragon collapsed onto Horst's floor as the stress of recent events finally caught up with him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All rights to the Inheritance Cycle belong to Christopher Paolini and Knopf Books**

**AN**: First of all, I would like to thank you all for your supportive reviews. I really enjoy seeing new reviews to my story!

**AN 2**: So, one of my reviewers pointed out a bit of a plothole in this chapter. Thus, I intend to replace it with this modified version. I guess this is what happens when you are trying to finish a chapter at 2 in the morning. :(

Second, I will be attempting to get these chapters out quicker than what happened with chapter 3. That was a case of other interests taking up my spare time. I hope to maintain a more rapid pace in the future. Now, on with the story!

The first thing that Eragon noticed when he awoke was that he was in a bed. Horst and Elain must have moved him there when he passed out. Eragon sat up in the bed and opened his eyes. At first, through the haze of just waking up from a long and deep sleep, Eragon thought that it was sometime in the afternoon. At least, he thought that until he looked out the open window.

There, hanging high in the sky, was the waning moon. Somehow, despite having reverted to normal, Eragon was able to see just fine. Then Eragon remembered how light his uncle felt when he was carrying Garrow. Maybe he hadn't become as normal as he had thought.

Thinking of Garrow brought back memories of what had happened, and the wounds Eragon had sustained in trying to save his uncle. Realization had Eragon reaching for the left half of his face. He had been seeing from both eyes this entire time! In fact, when his fingers touched his face, Eragon felt no pain. Nor did he feel any form of wound. There wasn't even a scar! Now that he thought about it, he didn't feel any pain from any of his injuries. A quick examination showed that all of his wounds had healed without scaring. Eragon was drawn from his amazement-induced stupor when he heard voices drifting up from the bottom floor.

"How do you think we're going to tell him?" one voice, which Eragon recognized as Horst's, asked.

"I don't really know." That one was Elain. "How do tell someone the last of their family is dead?"

Eragon couldn't believe what he had just heard. He didn't realize it at the time, but Elain's statement had a certain amount of macabre irony. Not knowing what else to do, Eragon kept listening. "How much should we tell him?" Horst asked of his wife.

"We should tell him what little we know. Garrow had strange wounds and he had a fever that simply wouldn't break," she said. Eragon could listen no longer. He had to talk to Horst and Elain.

Wrapping the blanket around his waist so as to provide himself some cover, Eragon ran down the stairs to see Horst and Elain standing by their fireplace. They jumped in surprise and turned toward the stairs when they heard Eragon stomping down the stairs. "He's dead?" Eragon asked in distress. "My uncle is dead?"

Horst and Elain just stood there for a moment, too stunned to talk. Then Elain snapped out o her stupor and said in a solemn voice, "Yes. Garrow passed last night."

"How?"

"I don't know how much of the conversation you heard," Horst began.

"From when you asked how you were going to tell me," interrupted.

"Well," said Horst, "Then you should know that we did everything we could for your uncle. He fought…whatever it was for a week. But nothing helped. The wounds wouldn't heal and the fever wouldn't break. I'm sorry."

Eragon collapsed into a chair, too stunned to even stand. "I'll go make some tea," Elain said.

"Eragon," Horst began, "I know you've been through a lot but I have to ask you something important. What happened up there?"

"I'm not sure you would believe me if I told you." Eragon said, keeping his head down.

"I need you to tell me anyway," said Horst.

Eragon thought about it for a moment. He would trust Horst and his family with his life. Hell, he already had. But if he hadn't even trusted his uncle, how could he trust Horst. Eragon realized the answer was simple.

He should have trusted his uncle, but he was already panicking by the time Garrow showed up, and so acted on that panic. He should have trusted Garrow then and he should trust Horst now. He couldn't change his mistake, but at least he could learn from it.

When Eragon looked back up, Horst saw that his eyes were growing moist. "I'll tell you, like I should have done with Uncle Garrow. Just…let me finish before you ask any question."

"Alright, Eragon. I'll wait." Just then, Elain came back with the tea. Once everyone had a cup of nerve-soothing tea, and Eragon got put some pants on, he began his tale in a room lit and heated by a roaring blaze in the fireplace.

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After Eragon's tale, everyone was silent. Not surprising as it was quite a tale, and quite a bit to take in all at once. Finally, Horst laid a hand on Eragon's shoulder and said in a comforting tone, "Thank you for telling me what happened."

Eragon looked at Horst with confusion. "You believe me?" he said uncertainly.

"You managed to heal most of your wounds before you got here. The only one that still existed was the burn on your face, but it still only took a week for you to basically re-grow half your face. Your story also seems to explain that mark on your arm and many small oddities. And since I've never known you to be one for lying or making stories I see no reason not to trust you," he said.

Elain put a comforting hand on Eragon's shoulder and said, "We know it must be difficult for you to think about what happened right now, but it was very important that you told us for your own sake."

"Why?" Eragon asked with worry.

Horst sipped at his tea for a moment before talking. "When we – me, my sons, and the rest of Carvahall - looked at the area around your house the only real clue we could find or follow was a set of monstrously sized wolf-like tracks. Tracks that ended where your tacks began. Now, we all know that you're a good person, Eragon, and none of us had a doubt that you were innocent. However, the rest of the town wasn't so sure. In fact, some of them were all for killing you while you were unconscious."

"What!?"

"Eragon!" Elain interjected, "None of us are going to let that happen."

After that everyone was quiet for a time, just waiting for someone else to break the silence. Eragon was the one to do it. "What happens now?" he asked.

"Now," said Horst, "You go back to sleep and come morning we'll have you leaving this place."

Eragon conceded that Horst was right. As he was about to head up the stairs, Eragon heard something that made him spin toward the door and freeze. Horst noticed this and asked, "What's wrong, Eragon?"

"I think we're going to have company soon," he said.

Shortly after Eragon said that Horst and Elain also heard what he was hearing. It was the sound of a group of angry people approaching. Apparently, a mob had formed, likely for Eragon. It wasn't long before the glow was spilling through the open window.

"Eragon," Horst said urgently, "Get up stairs, quickly." Trusting Horst's judgement, Eragon went upstairs as advised, but only far enough to stay out of sight from the front door. He wanted to be near enough to act if necessary. On the stairs he ran into Baldor and Albriech who had been roused by the noise of the mob outside. It wasn't long after that that everyone could make out the sound of the mob demanding Eragon's head. Horst's sons went to the side of their parents, refusing to allow a mob to have its way.

"Horst!" Everyone recognized that to be Sloan's voice, which was far from surprising, "Bring Eragon out now! He needs to pay for what he's done!"

Eragon could hear Horst walking to the back of the house, where his forge was. Eragon heard a scrapping of metal on wood and then Horst walking back to the front door. So, he had gotten his hammer.

Next, Eragon could hear the sound of the door opening. "Leave, Sloan. There's nothing here for you and your mob."

Sloan would not be deterred so easily. "That boy killed his uncle and destroyed Garrow's farmhouse, so why are you defending him!?"

"You have no proof of that." Horst reasoned. "Besides, you've all known Eragon for years. You should know better than to think he would do something like that."

"We all saw the tracks in the snow! We all know how fast he recovered! We know about that diabolic mark on his arm! There's something monstrous about that boy!" Sloan yelled, this time accompanied by shouts and cheers from the rest of the mob.

"I'm not letting you have Eragon just to satisfy your superstitious hatred!" Horst said.

"Then we'll just go through you!"

"Fine!" Horst said, "If you're all so eager to lynch Eragon then let the first man step up!" Eragon could hear that statement accompanied by a few short, heavy steps toward the door, likely Albriech and Baldor making themselves more widely known. While not as powerfully built as Horst, aiding their father in his smithy had made them a pair to be reckoned with.

"You cowards think you can come to our house and threaten us!?" asked Ablriech.

"If any of you have the stones, then come forth and try us!" added Baldor.

The sight and sound of an entire family of smiths proved to be quite a daunting barrier, one the villagers had no real desire of facing. Eventually, reluctantly, the mob began dispersing, leaving only Sloan, shouting for them to come back.

"That's enough, Sloan, you're supporters are gone. Leave, while I still allow it," said Horst.

While Eragon couldn't see Sloan's face, from the man's tone he would have guessed that the butcher was red with anger. "This is not over, blacksmith. The next time I come here, I'm going to make sure I get that little urchin." Without another word, Eragon could hear the sound of Sloan leaving.

With the mob gone, Horst closed the door and Eragon traveled down the steps into the common room. "I'd like to have a minute or two with that man," he said.

"Brave talk for one who just gained inhuman abilities," Horst said.

"I'd have liked it even before that happened," Eragon replied.

Eragon felt a large, meaty hand on his shoulder. Turning to look, he saw that it was Baldor. "Calm yourself, Eragon," he said. "None of us doubt your resolve, but Sloan's gone. There's no need to stay riled up."

"He's not gone for good, though. You all heard him! Barring some fatal accident, which wouldn't get a tear from me, he's coming back," Eragon said coldly.

"Now's no longer the time to think on such things," Elain told him. "You should be getting back to bed now, deary. In fact, we all should," she continued with a voice that told Eragon she expected to be listened to.

As Eragon walked up the stairs, fell into a contemplative silence. Halfway up, he stoped and turned toward Elain and her family. "I need to leave," he said quietly.

"What makes you say that?" asked Elain. Horst and his sons wore confused expressions that told Eragon that they, too, wanted to know the answer.

"Sloan has always had it out for me. Now he has a reason to act on it. If I stay here, I'll only be putting you all at risk. Besides, with my family gone, there's not much left for me here," Eragon reasoned with a saddened air about him.

"But-" Elain began.

"It's probably for the best, Elain," Horst said. "If Eragon doesn't want to stay, we can't make him." It was clear to all in the room that no one was happy with the new situation, but, with little talking, it had been decided. The only thing left to do was get things packed for Eragon to leave in the morning.

"Where are you going to go?" asked Elain in a worried tone of voice.

"I think I'll go find Fenris and see if I can't get anything out of him," he said. "No matter what, though, I think it's best that none of you know where I intend to go after that."

"I agree, Eragon. It is best that none of us know. I can say this, though. We will surely miss you," Horst said solemnly.

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The next day saw Eragon sneaking out of Horst's home, though not before saying good-bye and thanking the family for their help, and heading toward the farm house. Eragon would have liked to stay there for days, just sitting among the debris and waiting for everything to make sense. But he didn't have such luxury. Eragon had to get to work. He had quite a bit to pack.

Eragon found his backpack and began filling it. A change of clothes, flint and steel, tinder, bedroll. After gathering everything Eragon believed he would need in the house, he stopped and gathered his bow, arrows, and his hunting knife as such equipment would be essential. He then went out into the barn and raided the stores of food in there for rations. There was no telling how long he would be out in the wild so he packed many days worth of rations. Hell, Eragon didn't even know where he could go.

Once everything was packed Eragon began his journey. He didn't know what he was going to do in the long run, but he knew the best place to start. He was off to Fenris' cave.

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Eragon found the cave with no trouble at all. In fact, he found it fairly odd just how well he could still remember the route. While it still took a couple of days of hard travel the trip proved to be little trouble. But the weirdness didn't end there. Once Eragon had reached the cave, he found he remembered the exact route to Fenris' chamber, which he found to be not only odd, but rather unsettling.

During his entire trip through the cold and snow and then down into the depths of the cave, lead quite well by a hastily made torch, Eragon was wondering how he would bring up the topic to Fenris. How does one ask the ancient being that gave you great power what to do after your familwas dead or gone? Eragon had thought up dozens of beginnings, but some were silly, some were embarrassing, and the rest were just plain stupid.

As soon as Eragon entered the chamber, he was saved from this plight by a voice in his head. "_So, you're back. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your uncle_."

Eragon froze when he 'heard' that. The surprise of finding out that Fenris was aware of what had happened almost left Eragon speechless. Almost, but not quite. "How the hell did you know that?!" he asked.

"_I sensed you as you approached the cave. Then it was just a matter of reading your mind,_" Fenris said.

Eragon was dumbfounded by this. He also found it rather unnerving. "I didn't notice anything," he said.

"_Of course not. Though, something you should remember is that the only reason you didn't feel anything is because I am very powerful. I can guarantee that you would feel just about anyone else_," Fenris replied. "_And, no, I will not be making a habit out of this, but I needed to know the circumstances behind your return._"

"I see," Eragon said. "Then you know why I'm here."

"_Yes. You're here for answers. Let's start with the ones that I can best explain, the ones dealing with your new body. To assuage your fears, everything still works. Since neither of your opponents were using silvered weapons, your wounds were healed completely._"

"Silver?" Eragon asked.

"_Yes,_" said Fenris. "_It is able to suppress a werewolf's healing ability. Such wounds will heal, but at no extraordinary rate._"

"Then why did it take so long for my face to heal?" asked Eragon.

"_That is because your facial wound was caused by a very destructive liquid called seithr oil. It destroys the living flesh surrounding the wound, making it much harder to heal. In addition, it is also wreaks havoc once inside the body, requiring even more effort to heal it. The fact of the matter is that your wound healed fairly quickly all things considered._"

"Really?" asked Eragon.

"_Yes. You're turning out to be quite a strong werewolf,_" Fenris replied.

"How's that work?"

"_Well, since you were turned it has quite a bit to do with the person. In your case I imagine you had some latent magical talent which helped to fuel your change_," was the trapped entity's reply.

In many cases the truth turns out to be painful. In this case Eragon found it to be somewhat flattering. With the way Fenris said it Eragon thought it was meant as a fairly neutral statement, but it boosted Eragon's spirits a bit. But now was not the time to dwell on unintentional complements. Now was the time for answers. "So, since you know about this say-thur oil,"

"_Seithr oil_," Fenris corrected.

"Right, seithr oil," Eragon said, annoyed at being interrupted. "Is there any chance that you could tell me where it comes from?"

"_Many, many things have changed since I last saw it made, but the main ingredient is very rare, almost solely found in a small area on the western coast._"

"Can you show me?" Eragon asked now that his hopes were raised.

"_I can,_" replied Fenris. "_But first, I need your help._" This had Eragon confused. What could an ancient and powerful entity such as Fenris possibly need that Eragon could provide?

"What do you need?" Eragon asked.

"_It's quite a long story but, for the time being, an abridged version will be sufficient. I am one of a race that is known as the First Race, though it is a race known only by a few. At one point we needed loyal soldiers and servants. For this purpose, I created the first of the werewolves. They were created from a race we had already been using as servants. When my race fell, most died. A few, such as myself, sealed themselves away. One day, I may tell you more about that time in history, but the important thing right now is that my survival allowed me to indirectly track the fates of the wolves._

"_When my race was gone the werewolves were on their own, though they were not the only race of this land at the time. They quickly came into conflict with the elves and their allies, the dragons. What ensued was a bloody affair, one that took a great toll on the werewolves. A continued racial grudge didn't help anything._

"_I haven't been able to gather information about them from anyone within telepathic range for some time. However, the last time I heard of them, they were up in what is now called the Beor Mountains, though that was over a century ago. As to what I need you to do, that is a bit more personal. As the creator of the race, I feel quite a bit of affection for them. I also feel a personal failure at being unable to help them. That is where you come in. I want you to find those that remain, if any remain at all, and I want you to lead them back into the world at large. Peacefully, of course._"

It was a lot to take in and so it left Eragon speechless for a time. Eventually he was able to think of something to say. "Why did you need to change me into a werewolf, then?" he asked.

Fenris seemed to hesitate for a bit, or as much as a talking gem can seem to hesitate. Soon, though, Eragon had his answer. "_The original werewolves were designed to be extremely loyal to whoever they acknowledged as their leader so long as said leader survives. If the werewolves do not choose to follow you it will likely be necessary for you to challenge their leaders. If this is the case, you will need to defeat those you have challenged in single combat. So, I needed someone that could successfully fight a werewolf alone._"

Indeed, Eragon had his answer, but he didn't like what it meant. He also didn't like something else Fenris had mentioned. "If werewolves were designed to be so loyal, how can you be sure that I won't come to see one of their leaders as being worthy to lead me? That would surely ruin your plans."

"_I specifically made sure that you would not be subject to that trait,_" Fenris told him.

"Oh. So, you're a person that's been trapped in this statue? How is that possible?"

"_Not exactly. More accurately, I am a consciousness and energy sealed within a gem inside the statue's mouth. Though, since my race was little more than energy with a consciousness this was not a big change for me."_

"Then why can't I just take you with me, since you're in that gem? Then you could talk to the werewolves directly."

"_This gem is not a natural container for the essence of a living being. Certain things had to be done to the statue and surrounding stone to make it possible. Thus, at the moment I am unable to really leave this place, otherwise I would not have given you such a burden as to represent me to the race I created,_" Fenris said.

"I see," said Eragon.

"_As you might have already guessed, I will tell you the location of the main seithr oil ingredient, but not until you have sworn to aid me in this endeavor_," Fenris said.

Eragon noticed an issue with this. "How do you know I won't just ignore my promise and get my revenge?"

"_Simple_," said Fenris, "_I'm going to have you swear a binding oath in the Ancient Language_."

"The what?" was Eragon's eloquent response.

"_The Ancient Language. It is a language that, in its current form, prevents the speaker from lying. Thus, any oaths sworn in it are absolute_," Fenris explained.

"Really?" Eragon scoffed.

"_Given what you have already experienced I would caution you not to be too dismissive of something simply because you've never heard of it. However, I will give you a demonstration_." Fenris then gave Eragon a phrase to repeat in some strange, almost lyrical language. "_When you repeat that phrase, you will be unable to lie to me for the next minute_."

Not yet convinced of the truth of Fenris' words, Eragon repeated the phrase with confidence. "_Good. Now, tell me you aren't a werewolf_."

Eragon opened his mouth to repeat the bold-faced lie, intending to prove Fenris wrong. But no sound came out. Thinking it some fluke or trick, Eragon tried to tell the lie again with the same result. In fact, he tried to tell a variety of lies. Not one attempt resulted in a spoken word. "_Believe me now?_" asked Fenris.

"Yes," Eragon said in a subdued voice.

"_Good," _and Fenris repeated the phrase that would bind him to honesty for the next minute. "_Now that I have sworn not to lie for the time being, I'm going to have you make an oath saying that you will not seek your revenge until after you have lead the werewolves into some form of peace. I want you to know what you are getting into._"

Eragon thought for a moment. On one hand, he wanted his revenge. On the other hand, Fenris was asking him to undertake a lengthy quest. Eragon thought about the conundrum long and hard. Though this was an uncommon occurrence for Eragon, it was also an uncommon set of circumstances that lead Eragon to this moment. Eventually, Eragon came to a decision that would change the rest of his life. He repeated the oath that would bind him to Fenris' quest. After all, it was better to have the chance for revenge down the road than to have none at all, he had decided.

"_Thank you, Eragon. You have done me a great service already_." With that said, Fenris began giving Eragon the knowledge of both where the ingredient was found and of how to find the Beor Mountains. Eragon found it to be a strange sensation. He came to the decision that the feeling was similar to what a water skin would experience as it was filled, if water skins could feel, that is.

When the process was finished a short while later Eragon was left slightly dazed. Fenris took that chance to impart some last minute knowledge upon Eragon. "_Before you leave there are a few more things you should know._"

"Such as?" Eragon asked.

"_Even in your normal form you will have enhanced abilities. Also, while you currently can only shift under the effects of a full moon, practice and experience will allow you to eventually change at will. No matter what, though, the night of the full moon will see you change._"

"That's good to know," Eragon said.

"_There is nothing else I can tell you or give to you that will be of use_," Fenris said. Eragon was surprised to note that he heard a bit of sadness in Fenris' voice. Or, at least, Eragon thought it sounded like sadness. It was hard to tell with Fenris. "_I'm sorry to have given you such a momentous task with so little aid and so little reward_."

"That is not entirely true," Eragon said. "You have given me hope for revenge, even if it is not immediate, and that is reward enough for me." With nothing left to be said by either party, Eragon began his trek.

"_Fair well, Eragon_."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: All rights to the Inheritance Cycle belong to Christopher Paolini and Knopf Books**

The group had left Gil'ead a week prior. It had been a brief stop with the three travelers staying only a few nights to pick up supplies and for Brom to look for some kind of information. Roran would have aided Brom, but that would have left Saphira alone which was not something that appealed to him. And so, Roran had spent those few days outside the walls of Gil'ead. They were pleasant, though. In the beginning, after Saphira had hatched for Roran, he had been uncomfortable with the idea that he was now a Dragonrider and all of the unsaid burdens that came with it.

While he still didn't know what to think about the situation in general, Saphira had proven to be a gift. And, while Roran was, at times, exasperated by Saphira's vanity and pride he was glad she had hatched for him. This became especially true once she had learned to talk as Roran's dealings with Brom were a tad cold. Which was actually the topic of the conversation Roran and Saphira were having while Brom was out gathering firewood.

"I told you, I don't have any problem with Brom," Roran said.

"_Oh, is that so?_" Saphira said with disbelief. "_Then why did you stay outside for four days while Brom did all the work? He's an old man you know_." The last sentence was said with a bit of mirth.

"I told you I didn't want you to get lonely out here," Roran said as he went about setting up the camp for the night. "Besides, he still has the energy to kick my ass every night."

"_And _I _told _you _that you didn't need to worry about me_," Saphira said in annoyance. "_However, I'm happy to know that you prefer my company_."

"Of course I prefer your company. You're my dragon, Saphira."

"_Yes, but you'd prefer my company even if I wasn't your dragon. And that's the point of the conversation,_" Saphira said.

Roran went silent at that. In fact, Saphira couldn't even hear Roran working anymore. Interested, the dragon turned her head to look at him. She saw that he had stopped in the middle of setting up Brom's tent. Roran had stopped using a tent for some time as Saphira's wings provided plenty of cover and she was warm enough to keep him comfortable. But now he just remained in a crouching position looking contemplative. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"I have a lot of respect for Brom, he's definitely a great man. It's just that whenever I talk to the man it reminds me of how much responsibility I left my family with and how much is actually going to be expected of me."

"_Like I've told you already, I believe that your family will be fine. From what you've told me about Garrow he sounds like quite a capable person and so does your cousin._"

Roran let out a short chuckle, though at what Saphira wasn't entirely sure. "Eragon can definitely take care of himself, when he doesn't have his head in the clouds that is."

"_And what is wrong with having your head in the clouds? I do it whenever I fly,_" Saphira joked.

"Well it looks much better when you do it," Roran said with a smile.

"_And don't you forget it,_" Saphira interrupted.

"Still, sometimes I think that Eragon would be handling this better. He was always something of a dreamer and he got along quite well with Brom," Roran said with some lament.

"_I think you're handling this just fine,_" Saphira told her Rider, "_I've only ever known life on the road but I can imagine that it would be quite hard to give up your entire way of life._"

"Thank you," Roran said.

"_But you still need to accept that you're a Rider now,_" Saphira said. Roran was non-plussed that she felt that she had to remind him. The conversation died down soon after and Roran returned to setting up Brom's tent and making sure the camp as a whole was prepared. Eventually the two heard the sound of footsteps. The two perked up simultaneously and looked for the source of the noise. In the gloom of the approaching twilight they could see that it was Brom returning from gathering the firewood.

"Ah," Brom said with a smile, a rare occurrence, "I see you've gotten the camp ready. And you did a good job too." Brom took a moment to set the firewood next to the fire pit and said, "Since you finished everything else why don't you go ahead and get the fire set up. Wouldn't want you to get lazy after all." The truly annoying thing was that Brom had that same smile on the entire time.

With a grumble, Roran did as told. While he never said anything to Brom he was far from silent. "_Lazy bastard!"_ he said to Saphira.

"_Yes he is. But this is also teaching you to make a fire_," Saphira reasoned. Roran couldn't deny the logic in Saphira's statement, but he didn't really want to admit it.

However, Brom had made sure that Roran could make a fire from scratch. It was one of the skills that Brom hammered into Roran's head the hardest during their travels. As such it wasn't too terribly long before a raging flame burst to life in the fire pit, casting its light and heat upon the surrounding area. Once Roran got the fire going he wanted to relax for a moment. But he knew that now he had a swordsmanship lesson coming up. Catching the incoming stick that Brom had already prepared Roran set himself into a ready position.

The first blow was easy to block as was the second and the third. Before the fourth, Roran saw an opening in Brom's guard and so struck. Brom was taken by surprise this time, though he retained the awareness to block and counter Roran's blow. Roran, of course, parried the counter attack and sent Brom's sword hand out wide. Roran was sure of the opening he had created in Brom's defenses and struck.

However, Brom had anticipated this. He brought his left hand around to catch Roran's wrist before he could get halfway through his swing. Once he had Roran firmly withing his grasp, Brom brought his stick around and caught Roran with a sharp blow to his sword arm. He then released Roran's arm and said, "You're getting a lot better." He then set himself in a ready stance.

The next few hours proceeding in a similar fashion. Roran had very rarely been able to land a blow on Brom during their spars and all but one had merely been a graze. Tonight would prove to be no different. Eventually, Brom called the lesson to a halt, which Roran was silently grateful for. He had no desire to walk around with anymore welts than he already had.

However, Roran didn't enjoy the next part of his training. Whereas the swordsmanship lessons punished his body these lessons were now punishing to his mind. It hadn't been Brom's original plan to include these lessons at all, but then a comment innocently slipped from Roran's mouth while they were just outside Gil'ead. He could still remember the conversation they were having.

The trio had come to the edge of a forest near Gil'ead and said city had come into sight. Originally Roran had been under the impression that they were just there to gather supplies. Of course, Saphira had been unable to come near the city for obvious reasons. As such, Roran had planned on spending as much time outside as possible so she wouldn't be truly alone. Then Brom had uttered the words that had led to Roran's downfall.

Brom had said that he had wanted to gather some information as well while they were there. He had wanted to search some archives for…something. In fact, only the first day had been spent gathering the supplies. The other three had involved this search. Brom had never said and so Roran still had no idea what he had been searching for. But Brom had originally wanted Roran's help, which is what led to this situation. Brom had asked Roran to aid him in his search. This, of course, would have been impossible as Roran had explained to him, very reluctantly, that neither he nor Eragon could read. Brom had definitely been disappointed, but was understanding. Of course, he had not had time then to teach Roran literacy. He had been very intent on finding whatever it was he had been looking for.

Once the group had left Gil'ead, however, Roran's nightly lessons had been expanded to include a reading lesson. And so, now Roran sat at the campfire learning the intricacies of the written language. Roran had almost immediately accepted that such a skill would be necessary for the road ahead but it was quite mentally taxing. Thus, after a few hours of learning literacy Roran sought something to create a break. Then he remembered something that had had his curiosity for some time now. "If Galbatorix destroyed the Dragon Riders how is it that Saphira's egg still existed?"

As Roran had hoped that question made Brom pause. Saphira had been laying behind Roran, lounging by the fire. Now Roran could sense that her attention had been roused. "_Yes, how did I end up as Roran's dragon?_" she asked. Roran smiled at that. Leave it to Saphira to insist on hearing a story about herself. With the onset of dusk and a good fire going the trio had a wonderful atmosphere for this sort of thing.

"Very well," Brom said. "After Galbatorix slew the last of the Riders he began to smash the dragon eggs, which is the most well known part of the story. However, known only to a few was the fact that he kept three eggs to rebuild the Dragon Riders under his rule. This is something that couldn't simply be allowed to happen. Then his rule would be complete. So the Varden, the group we're traveling to meet, came up with a plan.

"A friend of mine, named Jeod, and I infiltrated Uru'baen many years ago in order to retrieve these eggs. They were a closely guarded secret and it took me years of posing as a traveling bard to find out where the eggs were being hidden."

"Who did you find this out from?" asked Roran.

"Hmm?" asked Brom

"Who betrayed Galbatorix for the Varden?" Roran clarified.

"Ah. That was the wife of Morzan," Brom said. He could see that Roran recognized the name. It was one that Brom had mentioned many times in their journey. "She told me of a secret treasure room inside of the building. Inside this room were the three eggs. And so, with some form of lead, we infiltrated Galbatorix's stronghold. As I had been told, the eggs, along with many other rare and valuable items, were in a secret chamber inside the tower. Once Jeod and I reached the chamber, however, things became difficult," at this point Brom paused. Whether it was to gather his thoughts or because of some personal difficulty with this part of the story Roran didn't know and neither did Saphira. But they were both so absorbed in the story that they didn't think of asking. They simply waited patiently for Brom to ready himself, listening to the crackling of the fire in the mean time.

Once Brom had finished with his thinking he continued his tale. "To this day I have no idea how we were found out or whether we were simply victims of terrible timing. Either way, shortly after we opened the chamber we were interrupted by Morzan." Roran needed no explanation of who Morzan was. The last of the Forsworn had been a topic of conversation during their trek. He heard Saphira let out an angry growl behind him and Roran found himself silently agreeing.

They had also been told of Brom's slaying of Morzan's dragon, Iryna. Considering that, Roran was certain the story was about to take a murderous turn. "Because of that," Brom continued, "We only had time to grab one of the eggs, Saphira's." That, of course, made Saphira puff up in pride. "Once we were well outside of the tower I told Jeod to escape with the egg while I dealt with Morzan. I was determined that two things would happen that day. The first was that no matter what Jeod was going to make it away from Galbatorix's forces with the egg. The second thing was that either Morzan or I was going to die that day. As you can see it turned out to be Morzan. In the mean time, Jeod managed to get the egg back to the Varden safely. From then on the egg was ferried between the Varden and the elves. But it is apparent that something has happened to the bearer."

Afterward Roran found himself sitting there and absorbing everything he had just heard. It was actually quite a bit to take in. It meant that Galbatorix had two more eggs in his possession. That also meant there were potentially two more Dragon Riders that Galbatorix could have control over. The thought unnerved Roran. It unnerved him a lot. If Galbatorix managed to find even one person that an egg would hatch for then everything would become much more perilous. However, before he could go much farther down that train of thought Roran was distracted by Saphira's curiosity. "_I noticed that you never mentioned the name of Morzan's wife._"

"Hmm?" asked the old story teller.

"_You never said who Morzan's wife was,_" the blue dragon clarified.

"You're right I didn't," was all Brom said.

Now that it had been brought up Roran found that he couldn't simply let this go unanswered. "So what was her name?" he asked.

Brom opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. A moment later he tried again. "That…isn't something that I find easy to talk about and there is quite a story surrounding it. So now is not the time to start the story. However, it is important knowledge which should not be forgotten or lost. As such I promise you that I will tell it to you after we reach the Varden."

The bonded pair could see that the old man wasn't going to budge on this so there was no point in arguing about it. Besides, despite the mystery sparking his curiosity Roran found that he was content with Brom's promise. He could also sense that Saphira was content with it as well.

"Well it's late, so we should probably be getting to sleep," Brom said. Roran looked about at the blackness surrounding them and found he agreed with Brom. Without another word Brom went to his tent and Roran nestled up againt Saphira's side and the three companions drifted off to sleep.

**AN:** **Yay! New chapter! Also, many of you may have noticed by now that I gave Morzan's dragon and are thinking 'What?' To those who are, that is a change in the general world. While dragons are still quite magical (after all, they breath fire and can fly despite getting HUGE) there will be no instances of random dragon magic being cast. I just feel it's too...deus ex machina-y.**

**I also seem to have made a new word. Well, that's all I have to say, so I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


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